Yearning Close to Home
by redsweetling
Summary: Jon and Sansa both have secrets to hide from each other, but who knew that they would have one of those secrets in common?


She exhaled, her breath visible as puffs of misty clouds in the cold of winter. Sansa Stark sat against the weirwood tree in the godswood of her home.

 _Home._ It felt strange being able to call it that again. She could feel the presence of the horrors that occurred here. Screams echoed through her mind as memories of her previous time here resurfaced in her memory, flashing violently in her thoughts and making her heartbeat echo in her ears. She shuddered thinking about it. At least the memories of her torture didn't bring tears to her eyes anymore. Not as much, anyways. She mourned the lost of her innocence many years ago.

The years of monstrosities and terrors had strengthened the girl, numbing her to most pain. She had become harder, and more cold as a result, but wiser as well. Still, she wishes that she could go back to being that naïve little girl, just for one day. She sunk into the snow as she leaned her head against the smooth trunk. The silence was a blessing to her.

Her eyes fluttered closed, her face a vision of discomfort as she tried to make the thoughts of Ramsay, Kings Landing, of all that she lost go away. She relaxed, her mind fleeing to something comforting.

Jon.

She had found herself thinking about him a lot, probably more than a sister should be thinking about her brother she now realized from time to time. But he was her safety, and she confided in him in her thoughts when her mind would wander into darkness.

She imagined his strong arms; his thick wavy locks dancing in the cold breeze of Winterfell. At meetings she would find herself studying his face. She would count his lashes, think about the embraces they often shared, or the smile he would bare only when in her presence. His eyes would crinkle and his deep laugh would fill the room like music. Her lips curved up into a smile at the thought.

Sansa Stark was aware that her affections for Jon were beyond sisterly love, but she could not help it.

"Sansa."

She jumped, her name suddenly cutting through the silence, now feeling embarrassed as she realized Jon had caught her thinking about him. She looked up at him, hoping that he would assume her cheeks were blushing from the cold, and not the thoughts of him. He smiled at her softly, that same smile he saved just for her, his eyes full of warmth. She could not help but return it.

"Hello, Jon. You startled me."

"My apologies, I did not mean to." He walked over and took a seat next to her.

"This King of the North thing.. I don't know how Robb and father managed, it is quite exhausting I will admit", he said with a small chuckle.

"They were far better at it than I."

Sansa turned to him, her brows furrowing slightly. "That's not true at all, Jon. You are a great king." She smiled at him, and then took his hand. "You are kind, yet strong. You bring justice and fairness, which most kings lack. Please do not doubt yourself."

He looked down at their hands then brought his other one to cover hers protectively. "How can I call myself a king when I allowed my sister to be tormented for years?" he said in a pained whisper.

"Jon, there was nothing you could do, nothing anyone could do. Please do not blame yourself." When he did not say anything she brought her gloved hand up to cradle the side of his face, turning his head to look at her. "Blame Joffery. Blame Cersei, Ramsay, all of Westeros... But please do not blame yourself."

As Jon looked at her he noticed how fiery and red her hair looked under the weirwood, noting that it match the color of the leaves that surrounded them. Her eyes were stronger now compared to when they were younger, but they were eyes that held a lot of pain. He wished he had been there to protect her. He wished he were there to do something, _anything_. Ever since Jon had seen Sansa arrive at the gates of Castle Black he immediately assumed the role of her protector. He wouldn't let another person touch her if it risked her life in anyway.

Sometimes he couldn't believe that she was actually here. She had been a ray of light that suddenly walked into his life. She awakened something inside of him, something that he was afraid of. He knew he shouldn't feel this way about her, but seeing how strong she is, her intellect, and her eyes – gods, those eyes made him crazy. But he could never tell her of his true feelings. He was afraid of his life that she would find out, mortified that her half brother had this deep lover-like affection for her.

"I just wish that I had been there for you, Sansa." His jaw tightened, his sight drifting down again. "A day doesn't go by without me thinking about Ramsay, about.. About the terrible things he did to you… If I could go back I would've kept hitting him until there was nothing left." His eyes were intense, but softened when he looked back at her.

"I won't let anything happen to you, not again. Not ever."

There was a shot of warmth through Sansa's chest at his words. She felt truly safe with Jon, something she had not felt in ages. He was home.

* * *

They sat in Sansa's chambers later that night, the light of the warm fire warming the room. They were laughing together; exchanging stories of the past when everything was better than it is now.

They both had forgotten how to smile until they were reunited.

Reunited isn't the right word to use, however. They were never close as children; they barely acted like brother and sister even. Sansa followed in the footsteps of her mother and was influenced to not approve of her half brother.

She now hated herself for being so cruel when she was a child.

"I have some news." Jon said, bringing his cup of ale to his lips, taking a hearty gulp.

"I am to be married."

There was a notable silence after his words. He noticed how Sansa's face fell, and couldn't help the small amount of hope that rose in his chest. He shook the feeling away. _Idiot, what are you expecting?_ he thought to himself.

"To whom?" Sansa asked, her hands suddenly fiddling with the fabric of her skirts.

"It hasn't been decided yet."

"You cannot!"

"I can't? What are you talking about, Sansa?"

Jon raised a brow at her. "Ser Davos says I need to marry a northern lady in order to strengthen my claim here." He paused for a moment. "Why are you so upset, Sansa?"

She stood, now, and walked over to the table in the room. She picked up the jug of ale and poured a heaping bit into a cup, sloshing it on the table messily in the midst of her frustration. She swallowed down a vigorous amount, ignoring the awful taste she so hated. Her back was turned to him, and she shut her eyes tight, realizing that her outburst must be confusing to him. She cursed at herself inwardly, thinking of an excuse to give him for her outspoken anger.

Her voice suddenly came, quiet as she spoke. "I'm sorry, this is unfair of me."

Jon rose, concerned. He walked over to her, grasping her petite shoulders gently.

"Sansa, what isn't fair? What's gotten into you all of a sudden?"

When she didn't answer his concern increased, and he spun her around. There were tears in her bright blue eyes, and his heart instantly strained at the sight of her pained face.

He stepped closer to her. "Sweetling, what is it?" his voice was soft, caring.

She shook her head, the tears now streaming down her face. "If you marry someone I don't think I could bare to be here anymore." She looked down, embarrassed.

"Jon… I need you. Not like a sister needs a brother, but… the way a lover needs a lover. Please forgive me for my indecent thoughts, but I cannot help it."

She felt dread as she confessed her fondness of him. _He's going to be disgusted…_ Sansa thought, fear now coursing through her.

Jon's eyes widened, and he blinked in disbelief. Never would he have expected this.

She looked up at him now, surprised to not see any disgust, or anger even. All she saw was the same affection she has being mirrored in his eyes. Suddenly he took her by the face, and kissed her. Sansa was still for a moment in shock, but then she melted into the kiss, her eyes fluttering shut. The kiss was gentle, but there was still a strong yearning behind it. As quickly as it had started it was over, and Jon stepped away from her, looking away.

"I'm sorry Sansa, I…" He closed his eyes, frustrated.

"I want to. But… We can't. You know what they'd say of us, what they'd do to us. I can't risk losing you because of this. It's selfish of me."

She strode over to him, her small hand turning his face to look at her. He sighed, helplessly leaning into her touch.

"Let them say what they want… This is different, you and I. I've been married two times, engaged three. I've never had even a glimpse of what love could be, but now I have hope that I might have found it."

He smiled sadly at her. "We shouldn't."

"We _should."_ Her tone was urgent and her face was now determined as she looked at him. _"_ We've both been through too much damn heartbreak. Why shouldn't we let something good happen to us for once?"

He took her hands in his own and brought them to his face, gingerly kissing the palms of them.

"I want you Sansa. I want you so much it scares me, but… I cannot have you. I am sorry."

And with that he reluctantly pushed past her and out of her chambers. Sansa collapsed onto the floor, and held her head in her hands, weeping.

* * *

 **Hey guys!**

 **This is actually the first fanfic I've ever written, so I'm sorry if it's not that great, ha!**

 **Please do tell me what you think.**

 **Thank you for reading!**


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